


Conversations With This Woman

by ambaila



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-11
Updated: 2019-07-01
Packaged: 2020-04-24 17:40:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19178200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ambaila/pseuds/ambaila
Summary: Weddings generally made Jaime Lannister want to run. Just not this wedding. Not when he can talk to Brienne all night.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the movie, Conversations With Other Women, starring Helena Bonham Carter and Aaron Eckhart.

Jaime Lannister discarded the red flower with the yellow ribbon on the closest table. Swatches of red and gold hung and were draped on every surface. The bridesmaid’s dresses were that dark red, gold in the shimmer as they moved. Banners hung from the ceiling, in a pattern. Right above the head table, the two colors had become entwined, declaring the marriage true.

Weddings generally made Jaime Lannister want to run. This was no different. He much rather would have liked to be at Casterly Rock, buried in his work. He was itching for a good fight in the training ring, or the bag that hung in the communal space. Yet, despite all that, he found himself weaving through the maze of tables chasing after a maiden.

Tall, blonde, gorgeous. That was what was running through Jaime’s mind as he picked up a glass of champagne from the bar and made his way over to the small corner of the room. Winter had come – another inopportune thing about this wedding – and going outside was a death sentence. The woman watched the crowd in the middle of the room and shifted her gaze when a glass of drink was presented to her. She looked at Jaime and offered a small smile.

“Thanks,” she muttered. “I don’t drink.”

_Not for a long time._

“You smoke, but you don’t drink?”

There was a packet of cigarettes in front of her, the tips of her fingers grazing the plastic. It was tempting – had been for some time – to pick up on this kind of habit. She took good care of her body. She ate well. She had to do something to keep her mind off the longing.

The bell above the door in the inn chimed. A boy caught the eye of the girl. A coat was hung. Hands lingered above a fire.

“I don’t do that either,” the woman offered.

Jaime looked at her almost impressed. There was always a darkness in addiction. He knew the darkness well. Ale was the cause of the long nights of loneliness.

“You don’t smoke, or drink, and the other maids at the table are drinking their weight,” Jaime pointed out.

It was an unspoken rule that the pitchers of alcohol were never emptied. He had watched through the beginning of the reception that the maids did in deed drink an obsessive amount. Almost as if they had created a drinking game out of the speeches. Wife, marriage, husband, life – drinks. The wishes of a long life of happiness, and well-being for the remainder of the days, causes the maidens to empty their glasses and pour more.

“I must not be a very good maid,” the woman offered, with a genuine smile.

He could imagine her being a maid. Dutiful attending to her house, sleeping with her husband, making a life for them and living out the life of a maid that belongs to one man. Yet, he knew she would never be that kind of maid. He was sure that her lifestyle of being a maid was vastly different from the societal norm. The term maid or maiden was almost too good for her.

“I doubt that,” Jaime remarked.

A cheer followed by a glass breaking momentarily pulled their attention. The room had stilled and soon enough the music continued on and the guests went about their business. Jaime risked a look at the woman next to him and gave her a look over. The red gown of the maids suited her, but didn’t do her justice. He didn’t understand why she was in it.

“I don’t even know why I’m here,” she offered. “I was never invited.”

“Yet you’re here,” he reminded.

“This is true,” she laughed. “I suppose there may be truth to the story my invitation got lost in the mail. That I was always an invited guest, but I share a history with these people and they don’t like me.”

“History?”

“With a guest,” she explained. “Multiple guests. Multiple friends. Only one marriage.”

“You’ve been married?”

The woman next to him nodded. “Not – well, that’s unfair to say of him, but I don’t think it was ever supposed to work.”

Laughter rang out. The bride was standing with her new husband and they were gleaming at a story being told of them.

“Something obviously worked if you’re here.”

“I wasn’t supposed to be here.”

“So you keep saying.”

The woman eyed the champagne that had been discarded and thought hard about whether she wanted to drink it. To let it bubble down her throat so she didn’t have to talk about the family of her once upon a time husband.

“If you weren’t supposed to be here,” Jaime went on. “Why are you here?”

That was the million dollar question. She had no honest answer. So the first one she thought of was what she said.

“Curiosity. To see what has happened to these people I haven’t seen in years.”

“And your report?”

“They’re all the same,” she said, her voice almost sad.

He didn’t know when it had happened, but he had ventured closer to the woman. She hadn’t moved. He could reach out and settle his hand on her hip, pull her back into him and rest his chin on her shoulder. He could take her hand and make their way down the courtyard steps and cut across the map room, up the far staircase into his current stay. He could kiss her cheek, the corner of her lips and bid her a goodnight as well.

Yet, he remained still. Not moving closer, not moving away. He stayed. She stayed. He was grateful.

“Are you here with anyone?” Jaime asked. “Besides sitting at the High Table, you have a man lingering in wait?”

“No. You?”

“No,” he husked out.

Again silence lapsed over them. Again he wanted to take her hand, drag her across the courtyard and have his way with her in his room. Again he stayed close, taking her in, reveling in her grace.

The gaggle of women had appeared at the announcement of the bouquet toss. Cheering, giggling, hugging – it made Jaime want to run. But interest piqued when the woman next to him didn’t move a muscle. She watched. She stayed.

“I thought maids were supposed to join in the activity?”

“Maids are generally virgins,” the woman explained. “Do you see any virgins over there?”

It got him to laugh, but of course, the need for the last word took the better of him. “I haven’t looked.”

She smiled and shook her head, tearing her gaze from him to the crowd again.

“You said you were married.”

“I was.”

That didn’t stop her from lifting her hand and showing off a ring that was simple but declared her.

“You’re married.”

“To my work,” she explained, honestly. “I’m the Commander of the Guard.”

Jaime looked at her with shock and pride. Confusion washed over him, but he brushed it aside.

“Who’s guard?”

“Brandon Stark.”

Jaime nodded. Of course. The young man who was elected out of simplicity. It drove his family mad that a boy with no history of ruling anything was just elected. Brandon Stark, had a story that resonated with people.

If he wasn’t careful, or more careless for his own families political aspirations, he could find himself pledging loyalty to the young man. Parents were murdered. Siblings were individuals. He had been injured in an accident when he was a boy. It was heartfelt and great fuel for the fire.

“What about you?” The woman asked. “Married?”

“No,” Jaime said, honestly. “I hate weddings.”

It got her to laugh, but he noticed it never reached her eyes. He wondered what it would be like if her eyes shined with laughter – would the blue of them become brighter? Would they glisten? Would they – another shout pulled his train of thought.

The groom, laughing his belly laugh – the sound did travel with him.

“Are you seeing anyone?”

“A lady,” he answered. “Young.”

“How young is young?”

“Young enough to bear children.”

It was the thing that his father harped on him the most. From the day he turned 18 to just this morning after the breakfast before the ceremony. His father demanded to know when he would settle down and have a family. It was almost comical that his father would ask him that, when Jaime ran a security company that required his undivided attention every single moment of his life. He had that chance and he packed a bag instead; loyalty.

“So, a child.” The woman laughed.

“Not a child. A little older than that. Maybe in her twentieth year.”

The woman rolled her eyes and it was then that she left his side. She crossed the now emptying room and found another table which she sat herself down at. He was drawn to her, so he went with her. He sat next to her, kept his distance. He didn’t want to scare her.

“Her name is Nelly.”

“Nelly of Twenty,” the woman remarked. “Does what?”

“She entertains,” Jaime explained and went on to quickly clarify, when he realized how it sounded. “She’s a performer.”

The look the woman was giving him didn’t help. He was becoming flustered. He was losing his grip.

“She works with children,” Jaime explained. “Puts on shows for the little ones.”

It was true. Nelly did perform with children. At least Jaime thinks she still did.

“And what about you?” Jaime asked quickly. “What got you to join the Guard?”

“Loyalty,” the woman said, her tone pointed. “Brandon’s mother saved my life. I vowed to protect her children.”

“How long have you been part of the Guard?”

“Six years now,” the woman explained.

“What’s it like to be a soldier?”

“A lot different then being bound to one,” the woman explained. “My ex-husband was, still is, a soldier. He worked long hours. Was gone for months at a time. We fought endlessly.”

_“Thanks but I don’t drink.”_

_“You smoke, but you don’t drink.”_

_The cigarettes in her hands weren’t hers. They were a friends. They moved tables._

_“I don’t do that either.”_

“Why the curiosity about my love life?”

The woman cut him a look. He should know why she wanted to know. He did know why, but it was enjoyable getting a rise out of her. He enjoyed watching the color creep up the back of her neck, just below her ear, where he wanted to press his lips.

“I just –“ the woman started, shaking her head. “You seem to be flirting with me.”

“I am flirting with you,” Jaime declared. “But I don’t know your name.”

_As if I could forget a name like yours._

“Brienne,” the woman said quickly. “My name is Brienne.”

Jaime nodded. “Jaime.”

“I know,” Brienne said, leaning back in her chair. “I know who you are.”

That was the most truest thing he had heard all day. She did know who he was. The whole room knew who he was. His life had been captured by the press for the last decade. His whole family had.

Having gone through King’s Landing Military Academy, he graduated with his class, but was the youngest to be charged with the duties of being just and brave. In front of his family, he swore to the oath of protecting and defending the innocent. He was sent off to battle, defending the innocent, protecting them. Children in the streets, mother’s with babes in their arms – he shoved them aside, granted them asylum in shops off the streets. He prayed that the fires that had begun to spread over the roof tops didn’t reach the most southern point where most of the residences had gone.

It was the ale that kept him afloat. It was the memories of being the one to deliver the fatal blow to the back of Aerys Targaryen that kept him awake at night. A warm bed and a woman didn’t settle the racing mind. The battle was constant, ongoing, and sitting with this woman now, Brienne, he figured he won some part of his own war. He would survive.


	2. Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one thing she didn't know how to do was talk herself out of something. She only knew how to talk herself into things.

The end of a long and strenuous training day was when the box had come.  It was a large box with an envelope attached to the top of it with an exquisite design. Red and gold lettering, a red seal. It was the official invitation; it’s arrival came after her agreeing to be part of the wedding. All she thought about as she washed away the day of training, the dirt, the grime, the sweat – was that damn box and all its implications.  

There was a reason she had left King’s Landing. There was a reason she had gone north and not further south. There was a reason she hadn’t gone east, gone home. The North wasn’t close. Home, the city of Tarth, was.

Brienne made it a point to exhaust her body every day with drills, with practice, commands, staying out on the training field longer than necessary. She had done whatever she could to avoid thinking about the wedding that she knew one day would come. She woke early, went to bed late. She dealt with the soldiers coming in and out of her command with a practiced ease.

If she hadn’t done what she had done, she would have talked herself out of coming. She would have returned the box, returned the invitation and stayed in the comfort of her new command. She wouldn’t have come and faced her past. She wouldn’t have come and see the people whom she once would have liked to call family. Or friends.

“I remember the first day I saw you, you know,” Jaime told her.

_It was sunny. It was always sunny in King’s Landing._

“Really?”

“You were in grey,” Jaime said. “It was my junior year of college.”

  _Long legs in pants, in the middle of summer - brave or bold?_

“You’re making that up,” Brienne laughed.

“No!” Jaime laughed, in return. “It was when the weather was warmer. There was a barbecue for the culmination of the event and we were allowed to bring someone. Renly brought you.”

Renly Baratheon. A smug bastard who had a girl on his arm whenever he needed it. A girl to make the world think the things he did in the privacy of his own rooms was a simple story. A girl to make him strong, and wise, and _whatever_ beyond his years. Their second summer Renly had Margaery Tyrell. Third was Brienne. The Fourth never came for Renly.

“Renly brought you and you were under a tree,” Jaime went on. “Standing there, studying the people. It’s kind of creepy actually, now that I think about it.”

“I was not staring,” Brienne argued. 

Jaime gave her a small smile before going on. “I told you the food was ready and you waved me away like I was your servant.”

 “I did not,” Brienne argued.

_He would follow every one of her commands if he could. If it was in him._

“You did,” Jaime laughed. “You in your grey outfit and your handwaving.”

_Pants and a top – grey. He liked the color on her. Against the pale skin._

Jaime gave her a smile, their moment interrupted by a small man with a book. Jaime had seen him standing in front of the hall at the beginning of the reception, handing pens out to the guests who had come. Now, he was doing the same to them.

“You two are the only ones left.” the young man said. “We need you to sign the book.”

“The book?” Jaime asked. “What book?” 

He was feigning ignorance and it made Brienne smirk. She reached for the pen and clicked it. Making a scene for Jaime.

“The book of visitors,” the young man replied as if it was the dumbest question Jaime could have asked.

Jaime winked at her, taking his own pen, and reaching for the book. The little man with it, held it to his chest, shaking his head at Jaime. Brienne tried not to laugh at the antics.  

“What do we write?” Brienne asked instead.

 “Anything – something,” the guy said, opening the book to the blank pages at the front of the book.

The man gave her the book first, shooting Jaime a look. Jaime had annoyed him. The man, to be fair, already seemed annoyed, having needed to hunt them down. Annoyed that he had this job in the first place.

First it was Brienne who wrote her quick inscription. Nothing personal. Simply a well wish for the future of the bride and groom. Jaime took the book from her and read her page. She smiled at the man who had handed them the book and tried to placate him with a small, apologetic smile.

Jaime made a show of signing the book, pausing to think. He wrote a little bit and then stopped. He’d go to Brienne’s page, re-read it and then go back to his. He was doing this on purpose, just to further piss the guy off, Brienne knew it.

She glanced over his shoulder to see how much he had written and she wanted to punch him in the arm. But before she was able to do so, he closed the book with a snap and handed the book over. He winked at her as the man took the book and went.

 “You are awful.” Brienne laughed.

 “You’re the maid of honor,” he commented.

 “You know that I am,” Brienne said. “The same way I know you’re the –“

The announcement for the last dance came over the speakers. It was loud enough to make her pause. It took her by surprise; for a moment she forgot where they were. That there were other people in the room with them.

“How did Cersei meet Robert anyway?”

“Well, it was an introduction by my father. Robert picked up a seat of power in King’s Landing and my father thought it was a good idea for them to get married.”

“How long since then?”

 “About six years or so. Maybe seven.”

Brienne looked away for just a moment and she shook her head, forcing herself not to ask anymore stupid questions.

 “How did you become part of the Guard?”

  _Glass breaking. Doors slamming._

“Just like everybody else,” Brienne shrugged. “You fight for it. A promise is a promise. A contract is a contract.”

 “And how long is yours?”

 “Five more years,” Brienne said. “That’s one contract.”

 “How long have you been in it?”

 “Seven years now.”

 Another bout of silence melted around them. Brienne tapped her fingers against the top of the table. She itched for her weapon.She longed for the range. Or hit the track and run. 

“But why?”

“You know why. I told you why.” 

_Shouting. Lots of shouting. More doors slamming._

Brienne was younger then. When she decided she wanted to join the Guard of anyone who would take her. She wanted to be a soldier. Her father taught her to fight when she was little, but she grew up wanting to be more than just a maid who wore dresses all the time. Being part of an important family came with strings and she was going to have to be the face of that family one day.

She was expected to have a husband and once she did. The concept of a family was nice, until it wasn’t. Until an ultimatum was set and she was forced to choose. Life was cruel and the choice was made for her. Work became her life and anything disrupting that life was not where she needed to be. She didn’t need to be here, but she wanted to be.

She had to be.

“People join the Guard to avoid heartbreak. I went because of it.”

“That bad of a divorce?”

Brienne shrugged her shoulders. “Not really my choice. It was his.”

Brienne stood. She took the champagne flute from the table and downed it. She went in for the second one and Jaime set his hand over hers. A thumb brush against the top of her hand got her to pause. She looked him in the eye, challenging him to say something, and when he didn’t she couldn’t but help feel reprieved.

“Come for a walk,” Jaime said, nodding to the open door, leading to the path that had been recently snowed on.  

“In this?”

“Come,” he said, offering his hand to her yet again.

She took it and they went.

The temperature was cold, the snow melting on the ground around them. As they went up the stairs, leading to the tower of rooms where she would have one, her hand was kept in his. They stood close together as they maneuvered the stairs. 

“I kept seeing you in the streets,” Jaime admitted. “You were everywhere, all the time and I may have made a fool out of myself more times than not.”

_Girl after girl. They were never the right fit._

There was no way he knew where she was if he was that surprised she had joined the Guard. His tale of meeting was true – it was at a barbecue the summer leading into his junior year of high school and she was wearing grey. She had gone as Renly Baratheon’s plus one. But ultimately what happened that summer didn’t matter – it was what happened later. It just wasn’t the first time they saw each other, let alone met each other.

“I went to battle and I swore I saw you,” Jaime said. “I thought you were there, going after this beast of a thing and I had to save you. Only it wasn’t you. It was someone else. You weren’t anywhere near my location.”

“No I wasn’t.”

“But I saw women with your hair, your eyes, everywhere after that.” Jaime admitted. “I kept telling myself, I know her. I know what she looks like. I _know_ her.”

“But you don’t do you?"  

“I thought I did,” he told her honestly. "But apparently I don't." 

They reached the top of the Keep and looked down at the water. It was in Cersei’s fashion to have a wedding for the whole world to see in a castle. It made sense that the men and women of the bridal party were dressed the same. This being here made sense, but she was ready to jump on the nearest thing that would get her out of there and leave.

The top of the Keep was her favorite place to hide. At night, when it was cold, on nights like this, fires flickered in the windows. The sky was clear, dark, and stars shined. Her breath mingled with the smoke of the stacks. Her lungs filled with the crisp, fresh air.

“When are you leaving?” Jaime asked.

“In the morning.” Brienne told him. “Early.”

_The grey pantsuit that she wore like armor._

“I guess you should head to sleep.”

_Thin material. Soft as her lips on first touch._

“Yeah,” Brienne nodded.

She made no movement that would indicate leaving. They remained close. The sense to run was strong. She needed to. She wouldn’t be able to survive if she stayed.

She didn’t know if she would survive if she left.

One thing Brienne was excellent at, it was talking herself out of doing things. Her need for doing what’s right always won. Coming here, going to war, training troops – there were so many things and people who would be able to talk her out of it, but she refused to let herself do it. She always found a reason to do it.

_“You’ll never want to leave this place,” Renly had told her. “I promise.”_

She was asked to come to the wedding. She said no. She said no a millions times, but she checked yes. She checked yes because of him. For him.

She missed the Keep. She missed the grounds. The people. The shop owners of the southern point who knew her by name.

_“Excuse my friends,” Renly warned her. “They’re boisterous.”_

There had been a call made – in the middle of the night – when the troops had to deploy. They needed an emergency extraction made. A massive evacuation of a city. Boots on the ground were needed.  There would be a death toll, and the numbers would rise.  

It would take time, they had said.

Her heart pounded in her chest, resting her blue eyes against his green ones. Her mind was giving her a million reasons to say goodnight now and not in the wee hours of the morning. Her mind was telling her all the things

Wordlessly she left him. Taking the familiar path to the tower of barracks.

While she failed at talking herself out of things, she succeeded exceptionally well at talking herself into things. Things like allowing Jaime Lannister to follow her to her room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who gave me kudos, who reviewed, and who read this.
> 
> Let me know what you think!


	3. Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He nearly drowned before. He was drowning again and he didn't want to be rescued.

The path to Brienne’s room was that of the least resistance. It was the path he knew like the back of his hand. With his hand in hers, he led through down the long corridor and across the empty courtyard. Having spent four years on the property, learning the ins and outs of the Keep was beneficial in this precise moment. Confrontation would only aggravate the tension. Jaime wanted to leave it at her door.

Not much could surprise him these days. It was Brienne not letting go that sent a gently wave of surprise through him. As they weaved through the courtyard, down another long hallway, she didn’t let go. As he led her down a shallow staircase that circled down, she didn’t let go. She braced herself against the wall, her palm flat against the concrete, but didn’t let go.

She trusted him, he realized, suddenly. He turned to look at her and gave her a smile. She tightened the hold on his hand and he turned back forward. It wasn’t until they got to the staircase that would lead them up to her room, on the second floor of the Keep’s extension that she stopped and dropped their hold. Panic filled her eyes.

_It had been late. It was never late._

“I should go back to my room,” Brienne said. “I should go back to my room, _alone_ , and you should go back to your _whoever_.”

Jaime stepped up to her, keeping an appropriate amount of distance but dared her to say no. He took her hand in his again, his thumb sweeping the top of her hand, brushing the curve of her knuckles. He was going to kiss her hand, to let her know just what he thought of going back to his _whoever_. The whoever in that moment didn’t exist. No one else existed, except –

“Funny seeing you out here, Lannister,” a voice behind him said.

He dropped and spun from Brienne like he was burned. The watchful gaze of the Keep was one thing he seemed to have forgotten. There were its dutiful soldiers always in the shadows. As Jaime regarded the man who appeared from the shadows, he stepped away from Brienne again. His mind whispered he should just take her and run.

Nevertheless, he allowed the man to shake his hand and pull him in for a hug. It was then that the man saw Brienne standing there and his eyes went wide.

“Tarth.”

“Bronn.”

Jaime looked from Brienne and Bronn, the two never were friends. They were always adversaries until the moment of need came. Despite their overwhelming difference, and maybe because of Brienne’s need to comply with Duty, she helped him. Every single time. Even when he didn’t deserve it.

“You’re here,” Bronn said, to Jaime. “Why the hell for?”

“Cersei,” Jaime explained.

“Isn’t that why you always come,” Bronn said, his voice dipping into a deep vibrato that made Jaime nervous. “Where’s that Nelly gal you spend so much time around?”

_Hands around her waist, pulling her up, threatening to throw her in the lake. Laughter. Joy. No sign of heartbreak._

“She didn’t make the trip,” Jaime said, risking a look to Brienne, before focusing on the floor.

“Fun gal that Nelly is,” Bronn told Brienne. “You’d like her.”

“I’m sure.”

Brienne tried to give Jaime a reassuring smile, but the panic set in for him. Maybe he should go with Bronn and they’d get blissfully drunk. Drunk and high on sex. It was the norm for their outings.

Nelly was a real person. Nelly was simply a child in most eyes. A girl who needed guidance and a helping hand, which Jaime was willing to give. The poor girl grew up with no parents and when she stumbled into Jaime’s office one day determined to throw her life away from the Black Water Army, he had to talk her out of it. One time, out in a coffee shop, the eyes of the shadows saw and spread the word like wildfire.

“Listen,” Bronn said. “Come out. There’s a group headed to the pub on the south end.”

“Maybe later,” Jaime said. “I’ll meet up with you later.”

“Suit yourself,” Bronn said with a wave. “Lots of laps to pour yourself into.”

Bronn left as swiftly as he came.

Brienne knew of their war forced brotherly bond. The stories say that Bronn had rescued Jaime from death. They had both been forced into the water after an ambush when they were on patrol. The mission was meant to be simple; move supplies from High garden back to King’s Landing. It would take some time, but with a constant patrol of men, appropriate measures taken, the expectancy of an ambush had been diminished.

Except, with two or three nights left of the mission, they had been ambushed by inhabitants of the land and strangers to it. Their weapons had been outmatched and what was explained as instantly – the mission was a loss – their supplies had been burned. It became a mission of survival and not everyone did.

_Flags of King’s Landing waved at half-mast. The men of the Keep wore black. The women too._

“Sorry about that,” Jaime said, once they had finally made it to her room. “Bronn always was nosy.”

Brienne smile and shook her head. “Don’t worry about it.”

She could focus on their adolescent days. Or she could focus on the fact that she was about to willingly make a huge mistake. The consequence of her actions could be mighty or they could be simple matters of the mind.

_Fingers brushed the fabric. Gentle gifts of the flea market of the South point. Hand in hand, warmth. Kisses to bare skin. Warmth._

“So.” Jaime started. “What should we do?”

Brienne paused in the middle of her room. The room was larger than Jaime expected. He had expected the small room that one was his military barrack on the opposite side of the Keep. The bed he slept in for four years was meant for one, not the two person bed that sat in the middle of the room now. His closet and drawers was enough space to keep scarce personal items and the necessary uniforms for the year.

“What could two lonely people do when no one is watching?” Brienne asked, a smile on her lips.

She sat the edge of the bed and leaned back. He watched her with a flicker of hunger in his eyes. Ever the lion needed to be fed.

She toed off her shoes and let them fall under the desk next to the window. His gaze followed the projection of the shoes, their landing point and eventually back to her.

_He ran to her, his body bouncing on the bed. Laughter filled the space. A joyous sound._

He stood in front of her, his body warm and vibrating. She didn’t need to touch him to feel that. She could sense it. She could also sense anger – just a hint – but anger nonetheless.

“I’m not lonely,” Jaime said, tilting her head up.

“You sure?”

“Are you?”

“We all grow to be lonely at some point,” Brienne said, sadness in her tone and in her gaze.

_The blue broke, shattered in pain. The richest, deepest, heartbreaking blue. The depths of ache._

“Why did you leave?” Brienne asked.

There was no accusation, simply a question. He had heard she was angry with him. He tried to – that’s a lie – he wished he tried to apologize sooner.

“I had to,” Jaime said. “You know that.”

His fingers had been playing a song on her arms, on her neck, thumbs brushing the underside of her jaw. Grief overcame her and she pulled him to her, feeling his breath on her back as he folded over her. Years of things not said, not needed to be said now. This, whatever _this_ was, was enough. At least he hoped.

Just as quickly as it started, Brienne pushed him back. She refused to cry, no matter how badly she wanted to. He could see the battle in her eyes as she looked up at him, the blonde hair of hers no longer perfectly curled around her face.

“I need to change,” Brienne said.

“What?”

“I’m going to change my clothes.” Brienne said, starting to stand.

This would be his cue, once upon a time, in another world, to leave. It would be the perfect time now to leave. But, rooted to the spot, he watched her disappear into the bathroom.

A small smile appeared on his lips as she came out of the bathroom defeated. “What?”

“I hate dresses,” she muttered. “I miss trousers and blouses.”

Jaime turned her around, gentle and warm. He stepped into her, his front flesh against her back and he turned them. He turned them so they could see their reflection and heard her breath catch. His hands splayed across her stomach, her hands coming to cover his. His chin rested on her shoulder, his lips tantalizingly close to her pulse point at the neck. They were young once.

He let his fingers dance down her spin, undoing the dress with practiced ease. His hands came around her waist, under the material of the dress and he kept his eyes on hers. He felt the tension in her back, the heat radiating off of her. He welcomed it, knowing this was what his touch did. Once the material pooled at her feet, Jaime let his fingers dance along her shoulders.

His gaze caught the scars along her front. With a single finger, her circled the mark, and listened to her breath catch. It was intimate, what he was doing, but they were intimate. They had intimate knowledge of each other and it would be foolish to deny it.

“What happened here?” Jaime asked, his gaze latching onto the scar of three lines.

“Battle wound,” Brienne said.

“How long ago?”

“Three years now.” Brienne said. “Give or take a few months.”

“Did it hurt?”

“I was in the infirmary for over a month.”

Jaime eyed it, his gaze narrowing at it. He hated seeing her harmed. She was victorious in everything she did.

“What’s going on in this brain of yours?” Jaime asked.

“I should have sent you home,” Brienne said, honestly. “But something about you sends me in the opposite direction.”

She took that time to turn in his arms. His hands rested on her back. The battle was raging behind her eyes. The blue was darkening and swirling. She was going to toss him out, he could feel it.

It would be so easy to fall into the web of Jamie Lannister again. It would be so easy to fall into the addictive waves that he swam with her. The crashing of love, the swell of heartbreak, the marriage of the land and sea. It was tempting, the way he looked at her now, much like forever ago, to fall and not be caught.

_She cradled him like a child. The heat of the morning dotting their skin with beads of sweat._

The hand cradled her cheek, the smile of gentleness greeted her, when Brienne trusted herself to look at him in the eye.

“If I told you, that I loved you beyond distraction, would you leave the Guard?”

_The sword raised. The blade inches from her nose. She saluted the men returning._

“No.”

It was all it took for Jaime’s control to break. He surged into her, taking her lips under his. His hands trailed a path up and down her back. He spun them around and pulled her down on top of him. They were still fully dressed but he didn’t care.  Eventually they would get undressed.

Brienne rolled off of him, her chest heaving, breath catching. She climbed to the top of the bed and waited for him. She pulled the covers back, an invitation for him to climb under. With his tie and shirt quickly discarded, he undid his pants and tossed them aside. His shoes landed somewhere at the edge of the bed.

With the invitation still open, he climbed beneath the covers. Pulling them up to his chin like a child, he gave her a look. Movement beneath the covers had her giving him a questioning look that melted away when he tossed his underwear aside. That was all it took for her to climb under, divest herself of the rest of her wedding attire and to wrap herself in the blankets.

With heads on each blanket, they regarded each other for the first time in a long time.

_“Stay with me.”_

He was drowning again and this time he didn’t want to be rescued.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has been reading, commenting, and leaving kudos. 
> 
> Let me know what you think!


	4. Part 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She opened herself up to the ache of being broken.

 

Her body ached in way that she hadn’t felt in quite some time. It was a kind she welcomed. It was the pain that made and reminded her she was alive. A nagging voice said it was a mistake. Deep in her heart of hearts she didn’t know if she believed it.

They both laid on their backs, shoulder to shoulder. Jaime’s right hand laid in her left, their fingers touching, palm to palm. Like a melody in his mind, Jaime was pressing down on her fingers. The pace of it reminded her of a heartbeat. Hers, probably.

She had kissed the scar that ran around his forearm. The thin scar had reminded her of the late night call, the one that told her Jaime had been in the hospital. He had been found near a river, bloodied and half dead. His wrist had been caught underneath rock debris.

They were able to get blood flow back into his hand. The doctor’s said that he’d be able to use it, but there would be numbness from time to time. The nerve was pinched and due to the natural usage of the hand, the nerve would most likely to be always pinched.

“I can feel that,” Jaime said, his head sharing the pillow with Brienne.

“It treats you alright?”

“Some days are better,” he admitted. “I remember the girl who helped me with it.”

“I can’t compete with her,” Brienne said quickly. “I won’t win.”

“I’m not asking you to,” Jaime admitted.

There was something about the tenderness in which she held his wrist. Her thumb brushing the pulse point as her nails scraped at the palm of his hand. There were tests the doctor had administered to make sure he still had feeling. The prickly sensation of pins and needles would go away, but if it remained, he was to go in and get it checked.  More often than not the pins and needles would disappear and the numbness would take over.

_She followed him to the roof. The moon was full. Dogs howled in the distance. He joined them._

Brienne flattened her hand in his. Hers was just a bit larger, but not shockingly so. Delicate fingers they once were, until they were worked hard. Nails short and broken. Skin rough and creased. Worked.

Jaime thumbed the ring on her finger. The jewel of her oath a reminder. A warning that what they had done was, by every standard, was a mistake. An affair, of sorts, is what it was. An affair, a matter of the heart, a beckoning of the past.

“Tell me about it,” Jaime said, weaving their fingers together, the ring catching the light of the lamp.

“What about it?”

“The ceremony.” Jaime said. “How you were named as a member of the Guard.”

Brienne shifted, her body canted toward his.

It wasn’t a huge pomp and circumstance. It was done in front of a small group of people. Ten to fifteen or so. She was brought up, saluted her sword, and agreed to the protection of the innocent, to be brave, to be just, all in the name of the Mother, Father, and the Warrior again. There was a small feast and she went to bed.

The next morning she was awoken by the bells tolling, men shouting and on the grand staircase she took to the knee and was made Commander of the Guard. She was presented with the ring, a White Cloak, and an office. She went to work immediately. Trained new soldiers, refreshed the older ones, set requirements, assisted in the rebuilding of broken communities. It was her new life.

No longer was she hopeful in becoming a member. She _was_ a member.

_“Arise.”_

“What was your ex-husband like?” Jaime asked.

“Annoying,” Brienne said dead panned. “No. He was confused. Young. Arrogant.”

“Why did you marry him?”

“Because he was a good man despite it all,” Brienne shrugged. “Would like to think he still is.”

Jaime pressed his lips to her shoulder. He rolled onto his side, propping his head up on his numb hand. He looked at her. Really looked at her. Her blues eyes were bright, her skin flushed, tucked under the protection of the sheets.

He sat up and against the headboard of the bed. Brienne did the same, eyeing him. The room was quiet when they weren’t talking. It was just them. Intimate.

As Jaime ravished her neck, his hands burning their touch into her skin, she couldn’t help but wonder what if she hadn’t seen him. What if she had pushed him away and told him to leave. That she hated him and she didn’t need his comfort. Didn’t need his familiarity.

She was sure there was infomercials on. Or she would actually sleep and risk getting home later than planned. She’d work on work at the table tucked in the corner while the television droned on. Maybe she’d pack her things and leave them until the early morning while she roamed the city streets. Or she’d not leave and just have food brought to her and wonder.

“The man who marries you should be extraordinary.” Jaime said.

Brienne sat up, holding the sheet to her chest. Modest she was, despite the fact he knew every part of her body intimately and affectionately.

“People who love each have the unbelievable knack to drive each other crazy.”

“He drove you crazy?”

“Incredibly.” Brienne said, brushing the hair away from Jaime’s eyes. “But I loved him.”

Jaime’s eyes had slipped closed under her ministrations. They were both spent and tired. Her more so, but he worked for her pleasure. For the moans and the groans. For the laughter that bubbled out of her when they both slipped.

It was so easy to pretend with him. That the goings on in the room were theirs and theirs alone. No one in the room next to them, or down the hall, or the people wandering the Keep late at night were privy to this information. No one but them knew the pattern of ministrations that made her keen. Or the pace that he keeps before collapsing.

Just when she thought he was asleep, he opened his eyes and looked up at her. Her breath caught and she saw a flicker of pain. Memories, probably, plaguing his mind. He must have fallen asleep, she realized and whatever it was had woken him quickly. Her touch soothed the creased as his eyebrows and the pain melted away.

“I was married once,” Jaime said. “She was beautiful.”

“Stop it.”

“She was!” He flipped himself over, so he laid on his stomach. “Strong as hell. Stubborn too.”

“Must have had a reason to be,” Brienne said, clasping her hands in her lap. “You can’t just charm your way into people’s lives.”

“She was beautifully stubborn and smart as hell,” Jaime went on. “Wickedly talented with a sword and a gun.”

Brienne smiled at that.

“Your husband was young and foolish,” Jaime said, his voice thick with sleep. “You were pregnant and you went away.”

“No,” Brienne said, quietly. “You went away.”

Brienne moved then from the bed, keeping the sheet around her and making her way towards the small bag of hers. She retrieved something from it and left him alone in the bed.

_Drinks were passed down along the bar. A tray of them moved through the tables, out to the back where the group of them were celebrating._

The water ran hot, she wanted it that way. It stung her face as she splashed it onto her face. She kept her eyes closed. Her fingers gripped the sink. A wave of nausea came over her. It was so easy with him.

So easy to forget. To forgive. To want and need.

“My ex-wife was a great friend,” Jaime said from the doorway.

She looked up, her eyes red. Her face too because of the heat. Her eyes matched his in the mirror. He was leaning against the doorway. A pang of disappointment ran through her quickly at the realization he had put his underwear back on.

“She was extraordinary.”

“I’m too old for extraordinary,” Brienne said. “It’s not worth it anymore.”

Surprised at the speed in which he came up behind her, Brienne braced herself against the sink. Jamie kissed her neck, her shoulder and rested his chin on her shoulder.

“I don’t know why I’m here,” Brienne said, looking at him in the mirror. The question from hours ago finally having a real answer. “It’s a mistake.”

“No it’s not,” Jaime argued. “You know it isn’t.”

“And what if it is?” Brienne asked, spinning against him. “What then?”

She shoved him away again and left the bathroom. He followed her. Of course he followed her. He dropped to his knees in front of her when she sat in the lounge chair.

When he took her hands in his, she wanted to cry. To lean over and kiss him. Wish everything and everyone away. To simply go back to bed and stay there for the rest of their lives.

He brought their hands up again, palm to palm. “This is my fault isn’t it?" 

The ring shined brightly. He spun it around her finger, tempted to take it off. To throw it out the window and say be damned to her vows. To her oath.

“You would love that, wouldn’t you?”

“I would love – “ Jaime started. “I was the one who commissioned you. I administered your oath first.”

“You did.”

“So this is my fault.”

“I’m not a little girl anymore,” Brienne said, this time cupping his cheek. “I’m not the girl in the grey outfit.”

“It wasn’t grey,” Jaime said, adjusting himself on his feet. “It was blue and grey. Your top was blue, your skirt was grey. It went to the floor.”

“I remember the outfit.” Brienne said, rolling her eyes. “Why does it matter?”

“I came up to you,” Jamie said. “We were in the field and the food was ready. I took you by the hand, the food wasn’t going to wait, and for whatever reason I decided to kiss you.”

“We were married then?”

“Six months.” Jamie said. “Give or take.”

Brienne leaned back in the chair, listening as Jamie regaled her with the story of a past she tried to forget. People she tried to forget. She closed her eyes and listened to his voice.

The summer he spoke of was a different summer than the one they had first met in. Same place, same event during the summer, just years apart. Years apart, lessons learned. Ribbons covered their hands down in the Sept before the summer came. A part of her itched to go back.

“So you went away,” Jamie said, his voice lulling her into a false sense of peace and sleep. “Far as you can go.”

“Not all that far,” Brienne muttered.

“Far enough for me to not know where you are.”

“As if it mattered when you left.”

There was no excuse for him to say. She knew him well enough to know he left for his own belief. To save people who couldn’t be saved. Ever the hero never the rescued. She brushed the hair away from his face and leaned forward, taking his lips under hers. She melted into him, taking a breath through her nose as he surged into her, pulling her closer.

_They called her Lady Lord. It was snickered. No one understood she was more than that. She was his. Or so she thought._

Nights and mornings had been spent the same. Together. Entwined; souls, hearts, bodies. She would never grow tired of it. The sensation of it all. It made the loss more significant.

“Stop, stop, stop,” Brienne says, pulling back, keeping her gaze on him. “What about the husband? What ever came of him?”

Jamie pressed a kiss to her forehead, let it linger before pulling back completely. He stood and went to the bed, laying back down. He pillowed his head under the good arm and let the numb one rest on his chest. He turned his head towards her and beckoned her to him with a crooked finger.

She went. Of course she went. How could she not? She was drawn to him like a moth to flame. He was her weakness. 

His fingers brushed the material of the sheet and pulled her impossibly closer. Her knee bent, steadying her and it was enough to pull the material loose. With a good tug it all came to him. She braced herself against the bed and him, not wanting to harm him. She laughed and she melted into his side. 

His chest pillowed her head. His lips lingered on the blonde crown that was hers. Her arm was wrapped around his waist, the movement so familiar and so foreign at the same time. A movement practiced and unforgettable.

 _Stay with me please._  

With a sigh, Brienne let herself be lulled back into him. His smell. His grasp. His being. She opened herself up to the ache of being simply broken. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has been reading, reviewing, and sending the love. It's beyond appreciated. 
> 
> Maybe 1 or 2 more chapters and an Epilogue. 
> 
> Let me know what you think!


	5. Part 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fate was a fickle thing. It would always be them.

If Jamie thought about it hard enough he could remember the white curtains that hung in his windows of his first home outside of King’s Landing Academy. He had bought it just outside Casterly Rock – a small community that was popular among the soldiers of King’s Landing. Not many of them had families of their own, so when he brought someone home, it raised questions. In the early mornings, when the wind would gently blow through the windows, the curtains would rustle. They would billow out and the sun would further stream through, resting on the ground.

Other times it would hit the bed, where he would share it with the woman in his arms now. The summer months, which were the stickiest, they’d keep the windows open more often. A fan would sit in the corner and blow, it’s head rotating so every part of the room would have air. In the winter, they’d close the windows when the temperatures would drop below what they deemed comfortable. The furs and blankets they had were thick enough to battle the drop in temperature. 

“It’s a classic story,” Jaime said. “One I’d tell the young ones.”

“What young ones?”

“The ones I’ll teach.” Jaime said. 

It’s the only thing he does now. Going on circuits, talking about the missions and battle’s he’s fought. More often than not it’s to young men and women now who are interested in the horrors of it. To tell them the darkness is not fair, they’re perception is nothing like the reality. Plus, what he endured, he’d not wish on anyone.

“A man sees a woman at a wedding,” Jaime went on. “The woman doesn’t know him, but after a drink and a dance she invites the devilish good man to her room where they spend the entire night talking. It’s not until the lights dim that she realizes she knows him. Maybe even loves him.”

She had not moved in some time and he hoped that she had fallen asleep. She needed it. Her trip home was going to take some time and her spending the entire night was not going to help her. That was his fault. He was the one who had kissed her. If he hadn’t kissed her –

“And then?” Brienne asked, her voice small and tired.

“And then,” Jaime went on, drawing his fingers up and down her arm. “And then she would have to choose whether or not she did in fact love him.”

It was then that Brienne left the bed. She stood and quickly put on the robe that was in the closet. She went back to look at him, thoughts battling around in her head, he could practically see the wheels in her mind churning. She ran out of the room and he spent no time going after her. He grabbed the second robe, grabbed the keys to the room and went after her.

He took the stairs two at a time, his chest heaving at the top of the stair case that would lead to the royal courtyard. It’s waist high wall allowed the people who lived in the building to look over the city. It was there that he had first realized what kind of man he could be when with Brienne. Long time ago. Many nights gone.

Sure enough though, she was there. Her arms crossed against her chest. It wasn’t cold, but it wasn’t warm. Suddenly, he was thankful he grabbed the robe. The weather was just uncomfortable.

“You can leave it you know,” Jaime yelled.

“No.” 

“You can leave the Guard.”

“Why would I do that?” Brienne questioned, spinning towards him.

“Because this – us – it goes beyond loyalty.”

It was her own words being thrown into her face and immediately she realized it. Her eyes widened, her mouth dropped open, and she looked spurned. He mentally prepared for her slapping him. He deserved it. Now and then. 

“Would we fight?”

“No,” Jaime said, smiling a bit. “We would travel the world. Spin the globe and travel to where our finger landed.” 

“How would we afford it?”

“We’d be fine.” 

_He’s a millionaires son. Money is no issue. Not now, not ever, for no one. His children are settled for their lives._

“It would never work.”

“Why?”

“We’ll still yell at each other,” Brienne said. “Over the most mundane things. You’ll become insufferable and intolerable.”

“But then you’ll remember you tolerate me because you love me,” Jaime said quickly and watched her.

There was no reaction from her. She simply tightened the grip on her robe and let her gaze drift onto the community of King’s Landing. Fires were going, the smoke was drifting out into the sky. The sky was beginning to lighten, the dark sky was turning grey with the morning light beginning to rise. They had spent so many mornings together, she wouldn’t let herself indulge in one more; she wouldn’t be able to leave.

“What happened to the husband?” Brienne asked. “What’s his story?”

“He stopped drinking,” Jaime said, nodding his head. “He retired from the King’s Landing Army but tours now. Goes on speaking tours. Helps young men who have gone through Battle come out of the fog. He’s trying to be a good man.”

_He made his way through the city of men. His head on a blanket for a pillow. He dreamt of her._

“He was always a good man,” Brienne said. “If only he could see it.”

Jaime lapsed into silence, as did she. With the greying sky beginning to turn a purple. The sun was beginning to rise and that only meant one thing. Their night was coming to an end. Their secret would stay within the walls.

“I have to go,” Brienne said quickly. 

She made her way off the roof and down the staircase. Knowing Jaime was behind her, she did not falter in her pace. She had to go. Home. North.

Wherever Jaime was not. She wouldn’t be able to live with another touch. Not one part of her would be able to admit from the day they wed, her loyalty was always his. The same way she had once hoped his was hers. It was a dream, until the middle of the night came and he fled.

_The beeping. The screaming. The pain. The last of him was lost._

“Im going to rinse off,” Brienne announced as she forced herself back into her room once Jaime had opened it.  “Can you gather my things?”

Jaime stood there watching as she swirled around the room, shedding the robe and stepping into the shower. The water was high, loud, it matched the pulse of her headache forming behind her eyes. It was a welcome feeling – the hot water cascading down her back, washing away the events of the night. They were once whole. Not again, never again from the feeling Jaime got deep in his stomach.

He gathered her dress, the material of the Lannister thread gentle and kind against the skin. The red and the gold, even in the dimmed lighting, was bright and vulgar.

“I quit my job, you know!” Jaime yelled. “I’m not the Chief Operating Officer anymore. Too much backstabbing and my sister was ready to take my head anyway.”

He listened to the shower run as he went to lean against the door jam. 

“I didn’t tell you,” Jaime said into the door, hoping he could be heard over the spray. 

_He took her against the sink, their reflections of their younger selves staring at them._

“I took up a position here,” Jaime went on. “In King’s Landing. I’m staying the summer. I want you with me. I need a partner.” 

The door swung open and Brienne was again in her robe. Her hair wet, left a trail of water down her neck that he wanted to kiss away. To drink. To taste the salt of her and to be high on just her. 

“Were you saying something?”

“No,” Jaime said, shaking his head. “I thought you’d want something less restricting to wear.” 

He was holding a blue tunic and a pair of black trousers. They were soft, just the same. The Lannister thread. She was once a Lion, she inherited part of the land.

_I charge you to be brave._

“Do you have any children?” Brienne asked, sitting on the edge of the bed, shoving her feet into the boots that were at the bottom of her luggage.

“Me?” Jaime asked. “No.” 

He dreamt of them though. Blonde crowns, blue and green eyes. A daughter, tall and a fighter. His boys, fighters in the like, gentleman in the way.

Brienne stood her full height in front of him and he was forced to look up. A beauty.

“Thank you for my things,” Brienne said, taking the bag from him.

She didn’t have much, didn’t need much for the trek. It was a short visit. She would be back North in a short time.

“Let me walk you out,” Jaime said.

Brienne opened her mouth to protest, but let the grip on her bag go. She let him take it, ever the gentleman.

_The crates of their things, stacked up against the wall. It was a place that was theirs._

“What about the dress?”

“Burn it,” Brienne said, honestly, no trace of vitriol in her tone. “I hate dresses anyway.” 

Jaime laughed and left it. A maid would find it and take care of it. In a few weeks’ time, he knew he’d see the material elsewhere. The maids of the palace and the caretakers were crafty in their recycling efforts. 

The path to the front of the Keep was not a long walk. The trek down the stairs, that would lead them to the street were another matter. Jaime led them down the spiraling staircase that would lead them to the back of the Keep. A secret way off the island and to the dock that would grant her an easier escape. He could feel the tension in her rising – she wanted out and off.

He switched the bag into his numb hand. The bag rested on his fingers – as long as he held the same gesture, her items wouldn’t fall.

Just before they got to the dock with the boats, Jaime turned into her. She was close and the one thing time didn’t take from him was the knowledge of her. He pressed him against her, against the last piece of wall before the rocks. He pressed his lisp to hers and sighed into her mouth 

He pulled away and rested his forehead against hers. He pressed his lips there like a silent prayer and let his eyes close. Her fingers were gentle against his skin. He had changed into regular clothes and she figured he must have done that while she was in the shower. Another brush of his lips on her skin, he allowed himself before fully pulling away.

“I loved her,” Jaime said. “My wife. I love her now.”

Brienne smiled sadly, and nodded.

_“Will you just listen to me for once?!”_

“Thank you for the invitation, Sir.” Brienne said. “It was a lovely wedding.”

“Of course,” Jaime nodded.

The bellow of the ship, a lad announcing its departure sounded. They both looked towards the ship and the dock and the lad coming towards them. Brienne slipped her hand under his, taking her bag from him. A gentle smile graced her lips in thanks. 

She nodded her heads. “Thank you.”

Jaime nodded and as the lad came up to Jaime, he nodded towards Brienne.

“She’s to go North.” Jaime instructed. “Wherever she decides to land, she’ll go.”

“Yes sir,” the lad said.

Jaime watched as Brienne loaded the vessel. It was in the early morning hour. The lad had taken her bag, disappearing below deck. Gracefully, the boat pulled away from the dock and Jaime watched as Brienne turned from the water in front of her to look back.

She was far enough now to fit in between his two fingers. But he saw her nonetheless. She raised her hand and waved. A wave of thanks. He wanted to weave his own fingers between his own.

_To be married is to be one. To be one is to be whole. He was whole with her. He fit to her mold._

Jaime climbed the stairs to the tower that would hold his room. He shed his clothes upon arrival and put on the uniform that he swore he would give up. The night he left his bed, that he shared with his wife, he had made a choice. He went into battle with someone who was not worth saving. His father had been dead and the ghost of him still lingered.

Cersei was to run the company that belonged to the Lannister’s. Jaime was to be her number 2. A night, not long after Jaime had left Brienne, had he found himself with her. Heart and soul poured out to her, nearly begging for her not to merge the company with a second – she wouldn’t relent.

He left her to her own devices. Tyrion was on his way to being dead anyway, constantly running from one company to another, assisting with building them up and then letting them run wild.

A knock came on his door, not long after. The pile of paperwork had taken his attention. The incoming class of future soldiers were expected to come in a few days and he had to make sure he knew everything about them.

“Sir,” the young soldier announced, coming in. “There’s been an explosion off the coast of the isle.”

Jaime turned to see smoke billowing onto the horizon.

“Wake up the young ones in the barracks. Rescue efforts and reestablishment efforts are going to be needed.”

“Yes sir,” the young soldier said, running the way he came.

Jaime waited for the news that the ship that had exploded was hers. Deep into the night as the men assisted with the shop keeps to save produce and homes, did Jaime wait. He sat on a pile of rubble, not knowing that a few paces from him, in the same position was Brienne.

_Fate is a fickle thing. It’s what is meant to be. It blinds you. It binds you. Don’t disregard fate for the fate of you will be your ultimate betrayal._

_Jaime Lannister stood on the top step of the Red Keep. The graduation ceremony of the new soldiers of King’s Landing, the one’s to protect the realm of the 6 and the North, held Brienne of Tarth. A worth soldier, a cycle of soldiers younger than Jaime._

_As Jaime laid his sword on either shoulder of Brienne, swearing her to her oath, did he feel pride. As she stood, tears in her eyes, the crowd applauding, he knew the North would be in good hands. He knew that what she had learned was that of excellence, of duty, of honor._

_They had been married not a month later. Ribbons bounded their loyalty to each other. Their voices breaking with glee solidified their oaths to themselves. She was promoted to Commander of the North Corps on their anniversary. He left in the middle of the night._

_They called her the Lannister bride. A bred Lannister soldier. A traitor of the Tarth domain. She remained in the North until she came south for the wedding. To him._

_It would always be them. Fate was a fickle thing._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has been reading, leaving comments, kudoing my work. It's appreciated. 
> 
> Let me know if you think an epilogue is needed!


	6. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you break her heart, your life will end in rubble.

_ She’ll be the death of you lad. And it’s not the maiden with the piercing blue eyes either.  _

A knock on his barrack door had woken him up in the early hours of the morning. It had been a year or so after the wedding. Robert and Cersei had moved into the Red Keep not long after Cersei’s announcement that she was expecting. The plan was for Robert to take up a position at the Academy, a Commander position that would allow him to run the Summer Program. Jaime had been promoted to the Commander of Soldiers; all of them. 

The morning knock came and he was up quickly. He swung open the door and a young soldier had been standing at his door, nervous, and anxious. The news of Joffrey Baratheon’s entry to the world spread quickly, but not as quickly as his mother’s ultimate demise. Jaime had gotten there just before she died, a hemorrhage; the doctor’s explained that it happened with women, not as young as Cersei though, but it did happen. Robert drove his car off the cliffs a week later. 

After a long process with a series of law makers, Joffrey ultimately went to Tyrion. Tyrion took the boy north and that was where they stayed. Jaime went to the Academy because it was the only thing that made sense. It was what Robert would have wanted. 

In what felt like a blow to the heart, after a series of Commanders retired, more denied his invitation. His top priority was to find a Commander who would be in charge of the summer training. None of the current commanders dared to touch it. Not that it was difficult, it just took a lot of mental work and most of the Commanders were older and plain out refused. So he sent an invitation North. 

North sent one of their best. 

_ She’s the only woman who would make you drop to your knees, faster than any war would.  _

“ I, General Jaime Lannister, do charge you, the Commander of the Summer brigade, with these men and women’s care. You are charged with developing these men and women morally, ethically, and mentally. You, Commander, having been appointed, in the name of the Seven, do you swear that you will uphold what you have been charged?” 

Jaime stood in front of Brienne, uniforms on them both. Him dual stars on his chest, hers a silver oak leaf, both wearing the name Lannister above the right breast pocket. Brienne had her hand raised, taking the oath, one of many she’s taken in her life. 

“I do,” Brienne nodded. 

Jaime returned her salute and they shook hands. It had been three days since she had come back. Three days since he met her at the gates of the Academy. Three days of meetings, some with her, others without. The morning would bring the students, the new crop of King’s Landing and Seven soldier. 

He found her in his room, long after the sun had set, soon after dinner had been concluded. Her feet were propped up on his desk, leaning back in his chair, as if she owned the place. 

_ She’ll take your heart before she takes your mind, boy. Careful with her.  _

“You didn’t tell me you were coming,” Jaime said, taking his blouse off and hanging it up on the coat rack. 

His tan shirt was tucked into his pants. The red belt with the large black belt stood out, even in its dullish tones. He sat in an empty chair and one by one, he matched Brienne’s position. Feet up on the wooden desk. He crossed his arms against his chest .

“I didn’t know my arrival deserved an announcement,” Brienne said. “I thought this was more adequate.” 

“How did they let you go?” 

“I asked,” Brienne said. “Nicely.” 

Brienne grinned. As did Jaime. 

“You came early.” 

“Is that a problem?” 

The next day was filled with meetings.  While most of the soldiers had returned from their summer break, others weren’t due for another few weeks. Jaime, along with the rest of his commanders, briefed the soldiers who would be assisting with the training. He introduced Brienne as the Commander in Charge of the Summer. Everyone took note of the name she wore above her right breast pocket. 

Jaime had found himself transfixed, listening to Brienne take charge of the Soldiers. Her voice was firm, but kind. She described her expectations for the safety of the incoming class. She described the various stations the incoming soldiers would be required to attend, in order to pick up their issued pieces. Most, if not all of the Commanders in the room had attended the Academy at one point or another. 

Yet, they were all attentive. As she slipped into the rest of the summer training Jaime slipped out the back of the room, needing to attend another meeting. He didn’t see Brienne until dinner, having had lunch in his office. 

_ Be that as it may boy. What she has, won’t feed your addiction. Instead you’ll feed it. _

There was something about stepping onto the floor that belonged to him. His floor. The fourth floor of the Academy belonged to him. His office on one side of the hall, his chamber on the other half. When he was done with his meetings, finally, he made his way down the hallway. He had nearly changed into the physical training uniform that would be issued to the incoming class when he heard the door to his room open. 

A pair of boots carried in the newest Commander in Charge. Tucked into them were the ugly grey trousers he wore, with the red belt with the black buckle. He grinned at the wearer of the uniform, pouring a glass of wine and offering it to the woman who stood before him.

“Good day at work, dear?” Jaime questioned.

“Imagine my surprise when I found out that my things had been brought here,” Brienne returned, taking the wine from Jaime. 

“I thought you don’t drink.” 

“We have a reason to celebrate.” 

Jaime grinned and nodded. He took a drink of his own wine and set the glass down, eyeing the woman in front of him. 

“So,” Jaime said, sitting and unlacing his boots. “Will tomorrow go smoothly?” 

“As smooth as one can hope,” Brienne said. “The briefing went fine. Your young Commander of the troops will be a great soldier some day.” 

“Reminds me of a young me,” Jaime said narcissistically. 

“Yes, but he  _ actually worked _ for it.” 

Jaime rolled his eyes and gave her more wine. This was the woman he fell in love with. This was the woman he swore his life to and she was drying him mad. 

_ By the mother, father and warrior - I hereby declare your promotion to Commander.  _

The irony of the morning was Jaime waking up alone. It was before the sun had risen. He had promised himself he would wake before the rest of the staff and get ahead start. He had failed. He expected the rest of the day would be like it. 

Just as the sun rose above the mountains in the distance, bouncing off the water, he found the woman he sought after. She was already greeting families who had come to King’s Landing early. They’re reporting times - the incoming soldiers - varied. She smiled at the men and women who were about to swear their lives to protecting the lands they ultimately would choose. 

“Morning Commander,” Jaime greeted as he stepped up to her. 

“Morning sir,” she greeted in return. “This is Arya Stark from Winterfell, sir.” 

“Miss Stark, welcome to King’s Landing.” 

“Thank you sir,” the young, dark haired woman replied. 

Brienne and Jaime stepped away from the line of incoming soldiers. Jaime, taking  Brienne by the elbow redirected their path down a small staircase that led them to the shadows. 

“Morning,” Jaime said again.

Brienne grinned and shook her head, adding an eye roll. “We’ve already done this.” 

“Yes, but I wasn’t able to have a morning drink with you.” 

“Something for you to get used to,”  Brienne laughed. “I have to give the first briefing.” 

Brienne shoved him away and he watched her walk up the way they had just come. She slipped in through the side doors and he was right behind her. 

_ She’ll always have the upper hand, even when you hold the power.  _

Having Brienne around was difficult to say the least. She was there, but then she wasn’t. Jaime was so busy doing other things that when the troops marched back into the Keep from field training he was off in a meeting for something mundane. He would have much rather have listened to the shouts of the older soldiers, barking orders, instead of listening to someone drone on about the ships that would be making a show at the edge of summer and fall. When he did see her though, she looked at ease. 

Being in command was what she excelled at. She was always an excellent leader and whatever she did. It was why her name was in the books of Lead Commanders, three classes underneath Jaime’s. Her voice was no-nonsense as she herself barked her own set of orders. She stood tall, taller than she already was, as she stood on the parade field with her sword in salute. 

He enjoyed the brief moments he had with her, when she would stop by his office to drop off a report. When the late hour of the night brought her to the fourth floor because he asked for her. She would retire to her own room, but from time to time, the late hour allowed him a moment with her in his own bed. Every time though, she was gone before he woke. He figured it was payback for him leaving her when they were married. 

_ If you wake with the sun you have survived the night. Another chance to make the wrong right.  _

“Let’s get married again,” Jaime said, offhandedly one night. 

Brienne looked up from her file of paperwork - progress reports for the fleet of soldiers she took command over. 

“Pardon?” 

“Let’s get married again,” Jaime repeated. “They say it’s better the second time around.” 

Brienne went back to her paperwork, choosing to ignore him. It was better that way. It was easier to ignore his proposal than to admit she wanted to marry him. Again. Or figure out if they were ever, really, divorced. 

Not that it would matter, really. People had their vows renewed from time to time, in some way or another. Behind closed doors and on paper, between them, it would work. For the rest of the world, their immediate colleagues, it would raise more questions. It already raised questions because she wore  _ Lannister _ above her right breast pocket. 

“Are you going to ignore me?” 

“Yes,” Brienne said. “What do you think of the freshman soldiers; the ones in the Baratheon Hall?” 

“They’re all trouble makers,” Jaime said. “I’ve gotten complaints more than I got praises.”

“Elias Atackney seems to be doing the best though,” Brienne went on. “Has high marks in everything he does.” 

“He’ll be the only one to make it to graduation at this rate.” 

“Stop it,” Brienne chastised. “I’m being serious.” 

“As am I Commander,” Jaime said, standing from his chair.

He came around his desk and sat on the edge of it, eyeing Brienne critically. 

There was no bone in his body that didn’t want to be married to her. He  _ liked  _ being married to her. It was the only thing about his marriage that he did like. Her. How he would explain that to her, he didn’t know. 

As the year progressed, she was in his bed more than she was in her own. The whispers had begun to stop subside since they called her by her rank and him by his. There was no need to distinguish  _ which _ Lannister they were referring to. He was the higher ranking and they were always talking about him anyway. 

“I am going to say it once more and once more only,” Jaime informed her. “I want to get married. To you. Again.” 

Brienne closed the folder she had been working on and eyed the time. She had a meeting. She warned him that their time together would be limited. Now was a great time to depart this - whatever it was. 

“I told the young Commander of my fleet I would sit with him in counsel,” Brienne said, standing and taking the folder. “I don’t want to be late.” 

It would take five minutes to get where she needed to go and her meeting was in ten. She had plenty of time and yet, she was enjoying making him squirm.

“You didn’t answer my question.” 

“Was there a question?” Brienne challenged. “I heard a demand.” 

“For the love of the gods, woman,” Jaime snapped, coming up to her in two large steps. “Just answer me.” 

“Did you notice what I signed when I took command of the Summer fleet?” Brienne asked. “Or any of the progress reports that I’ve signed that have crossed your desk?” 

When Jaime said nothing, she sighed and shoved the folder into his chest, causing him to take two steps back. She took him off guard by the motion. 

“I signed it Lannister,” Brienne said. “I don’t remember a time, in these halls, when I  _ haven’t _ been married to you. So, marrying you again would be redundant, wouldn’t it?” 

 Jaime let her go, smiling from ear to ear. She would be in his bed by the end of the night; she’d return to him after her meeting. It was getting late anyway, and lights out was approaching. 

It was enough. Because nearly two years after spending a night with her, she was his again. 

_ Be that as it may, lad. Your heart will be hers and hers alone. Break it and you’ll pay with rubble.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has read this story. Let me know what you think!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading.  
> Let me know what you think!


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